by Marie Meyer
“I…can’t…move,” I mumbled.
“Take my hand, Bean.” I felt him slip his hand into mine, but I was afraid to move.
My head swarmed with a thousand hornets. Their buzzing vibrated my entire body until I couldn’t take it anymore. I thrust my body forward and leaned for what I hoped was the open car door. Before I could stop myself, every tequila shot I’d consumed spewed from my lips.
“Ugh,” I moaned and fell back against the seat.
The buzzing in my head was replaced by a dull and constant ringing—reminiscent of the sound of a finger running along the rim of a half-filled champagne glass. While the champagne glass chorus rang in my ears, my body suddenly felt like it was floating. I wrapped my arms around a strong, sturdy column and rested my head while I floated away.
* * *
I prayed for unconsciousness to reclaim its hold on me, but it wouldn’t. The jackhammer inside my skull hadn’t shut off for the last twenty minutes, and I doubted it had an off button. I rolled onto my side and crashed into someone lying beside me. I pulled open one eye and saw Griffin’s shaggy black hair spread across my pillow.
Griffin? When did he get here?
Despite the incessant hammering inside my skull, I recounted the events of my party last night. What was the last thing I remembered? Dancing…and…tequila? Dear God, the tequila. Ugh! I will never drink tequila again. I held my head and tried not to retch while I remembered powering down shot after shot of the vile liquid.
Breathe, Jillian. In…out…in…out….
Once I regained control over my spastic stomach, I tried remembering when Griffin had shown up and how the hell we’d gotten back to my room. It was useless; the tequila had sufficiently erased any memory of what happened after I’d started drinking.
I stared at Griffin sleeping soundly beside me. He was wrapped up like a burrito in the small travel blanket I kept in my closet. The wings of the griffin adorning his shoulders peeked out from underneath the blanket; I fought the urge to brush my fingers across the feathery artwork. I didn’t want to wake him; he looked so peaceful.
What had I done to deserve his unconditional love? Even on my birthday, when no one in my family had bothered to call or even send a text, Griffin dropped everything and traveled eighteen hours to be with me. A wave of shame washed over me as the realization set in—Griffin had traveled all this way to celebrate my birthday with me, and I got wasted and couldn’t remember any of it. What kind of girlfriend was I?
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to cry. I was done with crying all the time. There was nothing I could do to fix what I’d done, so there was no reason to cry. I bit my lip and stifled the tears. Griffin stirred. His eyes were dark and shadowed with sleep. The second he focused his gaze on me, a sexy-sleepy smile brought color to his cheeks.
“Morning, Bean,” his voice rasped.
“Morning,” I whispered. My head pounded with the slightest noise.
“How are you feeling?”
I winced and shook my head. “I’ve been better.”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I bet you’re hurting.” He sat up very slowly. I knew he was trying to be careful, not wanting to rock the bed on my account.
I rolled onto my back and stared up at him. The blanket fell away, revealing the broken guitar tattoo. Despite the fact that I felt like gum, on the bottom of a shoe, that had walked on hot asphalt all day, I still had the strength to appreciate the beautiful man lying in my bed.
“Griff, I’m so sorry.” I wanted to apologize for behaving like an ass.
“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Griffin sidled up next to me, lying on his side. His bicep flexed as he rested his head on his fisted hand.
“Not exactly my finest moment.” I drew a hand over my hung-over visage like a magic wand.
“Really? It’s not the first time I’ve seen you drunk.” His eyebrows pulled up, making his forehead crinkle when he smiled.
“I know. But you drove all the way out here, and I had to go and get fucked up. I was pissed that I had to spend my birthday without you, so I planned on drowning my sorrows in a bottle of tequila. Our time together is too short for me to be passed out during any part of it.”
“Tequila. That explains it.” He moved his hand over my forehead, brushing some of the shorter layers from my face.
“Explains what?” I asked.
“The puking.”
I cringed. “Oh, dear Lord. I didn’t. Please tell me I didn’t.”
Griffin’s nose and eyes wrinkled up, and I knew he wasn’t joking. “I don’t remember shit about last night.” I threw my arm over my eyes. I was so embarrassed.
The bed rocked and suddenly my head rested on top of Griffin’s bicep. His other hand draped around my waist while his thumb drew lazy lines up and down the small patch of skin my cami failed to cover. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” he asked. His eyebrow pulled up conspiratorially.
I shook my head.
“Nothing?” He grinned, like he had a secret.
Why did he keep asking? Did we do something that I should remember? Panic rose in my chest. What had we done?
Oh, God!
“Griffin…” I was on the brink of tears. I silently prayed we hadn’t had sex. If I didn’t remember our first time…my first time, I would be devastated. “Please tell me we didn’t.”
He shook his head and shh’d me. “No, no, no. We didn’t. But…” He fanned my faded-rainbow hair over his arm, drawing each colored strand slowly through his fingers.
“But?” I was about to eat anxiety for breakfast if he didn’t start filling in the missing pieces of my memory. Alcohol and antidepressants weren’t a good combo.
“You don’t remember attacking me on the dance floor?” He smirked.
“I attacked you?” I hated not being able to remember anything.
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I sort of attacked you back, so it wasn’t all one-sided.”
Mortification was seeping into my consciousness and I wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide. “Were we alone?” I asked the question even though I already knew the answer.
Griffin shook his head, never once losing his rock star grin.
“Ugh!” I rolled over and buried my face in his chest. “How bad was it?”
“Well, there was lots of tongue, some moaning, ass grabbing—”
I shook my head. “Stop. Just stop. I get the picture.”
“Do you remember now?” he asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my buried head.
“That’s too bad. It was so fucking hot,” he groaned, lying his head on top of mine. His shoulders shook and a rumble of laughter clamored from his chest.
“Why did you let me attack you? You were sober!” I said, lifting my head up, giving him and indignant glare.
“I really missed you. When you stick your tongue in my mouth, my self-control goes out the window. Sorry, Bean.” He chuckled. “However, I am sorry that you don’t remember it. It was by far the best kiss I’ve ever had. I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”
I was all for sticking my tongue in his mouth, but at the moment I was mortified by my drunken behavior. “This fucking sucks. Apparently we kissed the hell out of each other last night, and I can’t remember even the smallest peck. That will never happen again.” I pointed a finger at him.
“What?” Griffin screeched, sitting up. My head hit the pillow as I noticed the horrified look on his face.
“I didn’t mean the kissing, you idiot.” I pulled the pillow from behind my head and hit him with it.
He grabbed the pillow out of my hands and tossed it on the floor. “Phew, you had me worried. I’ve waited a long time to do that, and I am not about to stop.”
I looked up into his eyes, wanting him to know how serious I was. “I meant that I am never getting trashed to the point that I can’t remember kissing you. I will remember every single one of our kisses from here on out, and that’s a promise.”
&
nbsp; “Well, enough talking. Let’s start making some memories you’ll remember.” Griffin leaned down, but I squirmed my way onto the floor.
I pressed my finger to his puckered lips. “Hold that thought. From what you said I did last night, I need a few moments in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
I shot up from the floor, praying all the tequila was out of my system. My head felt slightly better than it had when I woke up, but the tequila didn’t want to refund my birthday hangover. I shuffled to the closet, grabbed my toiletries, and rushed out the door.
“Hurry up. I have a birthday kiss to give you. I promise you’ll remember this one!” Griffin shouted as the door closed behind me.
I ran to the bathroom…my hangover cured.
Chapter Twenty-Five
You’re hungry,” Griffin said against my lips. “Your stomach sounds pretty pissed.”
“I’ll order a pizza. I don’t want to leave.”
Griffin grabbed my phone off the desk and handed it to me. Within minutes lunch was ordered and I resumed kissing my boyfriend.
“This has been the best birthday ever,” I said happily. Griffin and I lay side by side on my tiny twin mattress. My hands were folded and pressed on the pillow between us. Griffin took the opportunity to put his hands over mine, running his thumb up and down my wrist.
“I haven’t had a chance to give you your gift,” he said thoughtfully.
“Are you kidding? You’re here. That’s beyond enough.”
Griffin smoothed my hair back and smiled. “Of course I got you a birthday present.” He leaned closer and kissed the tip of my nose. “But, before I give it to you, I want you to keep an open mind.”
Uh-oh. Any gift that needed a buffer couldn’t be good. “What did you do, Griffin?” I pushed myself up and sat cross-legged on the bed. Griffin did the same. He took my hands in his and squeezed them tightly.
Griffin’s eyes blazed with an intense gaze. “It’s nothing big or extravagant, but when I saw them, I thought of you…and us.”
My eyebrows scrunched together. “What does that mean?” I was confused.
He got up off the bed and walked toward the closet. Reaching up, he moved a few of my things around before his eyes alighted on something shoved toward the back.
“What are you looking for?” I craned my neck to see.
Just then, my phone rang. I turned my attention to the ringing coming from my blankets and sifted through the tousled mess. “It’s probably the pizza guy,” I said, answering the unknown number.
When I answered the phone, Griffin guiltily whipped around like he’d been bitten by some monster hiding in my closet. He was acting so weird.
“I’ll be right down. Thanks.” I hung up the phone and sprang up from the bed, grabbing my purse from the floor beside my desk. “I was right; it’s the pizza.”
“Perfect timing,” he mumbled. His demeanor visibly deflated and his shoulders slumped. He looked like he was pouting.
“I’ll be right back.” I walked to the door but before I opened it, I quickly wrapped my arms around Griffin’s waist and pulled him to me. “You’re acting very strange,” I said, pressing my nose to his. “You don’t need to worry. Whatever you got me, I know I’ll love it. I’ve never disliked a present you’ve gotten me.” Before he could answer, I put my mouth on his and kissed him with every ounce of confidence in my body. Whatever had him flustered, I hoped that I could transfer some of my confidence to him through my kiss.
I opened the door and skipped down the hall to get our pizza, leaving him speechless and standing in front of my closet.
After my short jaunt down to the common area, I paid the delivery guy and hustled back to my room. I’d deliberately deprived myself of food for most of the day, fearing my stomach would reject anything I put in it, but as the scents of cheese, pepperoni, and pineapple flirted with my nose my mouth watered and my stomach roared. If I didn’t eat soon, my stomach threatened to jump out of my body and devour the pizza without me.
“Dinner is served,” I announced, kicking open the door.
Griffin lay on the bed with his arm hiding his face. “You okay?” I asked, setting the pizza down on the desk.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He sat up and smiled sweetly.
I pulled open a drawer and dug out paper plates and napkins. “So, are you going to give me my present?” I asked, opening the pizza box.
“Let’s eat first. I’ll give it to you later.” He pushed off the bed and picked up a plate as he looked into the pizza box. “Pineapple? Seriously?”
“I only ordered it on my half, not yours.” My eyes widened and I cocked my head to the side, giving him a sassy glare.
He wrinkled his nose. “Your taste in pizza is hideous.”
The pizza was heavenly. I devoured my half in record time. “Ahh, that was fantastic,” I sighed.
“Mine was fantastic…not so sure about yours,” Griffin mocked.
I snatched a piece of pineapple from the empty box and popped it into my mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’ve watched you eat pepperoni and pineapple pizzas for what…thirteen years now? If I haven’t indulged in your exotic taste in pizza yet, I think it’s pretty safe to say that I don’t believe I’m missing much.”
“Your loss,” I said, standing up. I tossed my plate and napkins into the pizza box and added Griffin’s trash to the pile. Walking to the garbage can by the door, I tossed the box inside and glanced up into my closet, trying to get a glimpse of the present Griffin had hidden in there. Whatever it was, he’d hidden it well.
Griffin yawned and flopped on the bed. “I think I’ll survive…somehow.”
Turning back around, I brushed my hands together, dusting off the pizza crumbs. “So, when do I get my present?” I asked, wringing my hands together greedily.
“Your present, huh?” He sat up with a grunt and took two large strides to stand next to me, in front of the closet. His arms were around me instantly. “I will give you your birthday present on one condition.” He rocked me back and forth as he awaited my compliance to his condition.
“What?” I looked up at him, suspicious of his motives.
“You can’t hide them.” His lips spread into a tender smile.
I was thrown off by his request. “Okay? But that’s a silly condition. Why would I want to hide something you got me?”
“I’ll explain once you open them.” He tickled my sides and tapped my nose with his finger.
I giggled and slapped his hands away from my sides. “Got it. Now give me my present damn it!”
Griffin kissed the top of my head and stepped to the closet. Behind several of the small boxes I had on the top shelf, he pulled forward a brightly wrapped, large, square package. He held it in both hands, presenting it to me with a warm smile. I took the sparkly gift and looked up at him.
He wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me over to the bed. “Do you remember the day you moved in with Jennifer?” he asked as we sat down.
The memory flickered to life like an old movie inside my head. So much had happened that day, I wondered what memory he was thinking of. “Yes,” I groaned. “She wasn’t very happy to have me there and she made sure I knew it.”
Griffin scooted back on the bed and held his arm up, waiting for me to snuggle in close. “But I was there to help you,” he said.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, holding the package in my lap. “I remember. She loved that, too.”
“It was fun to get her riled up.” He smirked, before he went on with his story. “I remember unpacking a box with pictures, and you just lost it. It scared the fuck out of me. I didn’t know what to do. I tossed the pictures into a random drawer and went to you.”
Those same pictures were hidden away again. I looked down at the gift and ran my fingers over the smooth paper. Where is he going with this? “I didn’t want those unpacked and when I saw them…”
“I know.” His fingers brushed against
my cheek.
“You wouldn’t let me go until I stopped crying.”
“You cried so much back then.” He exhaled. “I wanted to help, but I was…”
“Only sixteen years old,” I countered. “You were just a kid too. I don’t know many sixteen-year-old boys who would have put up with a broken teenage girl.”
His dark eyes surveyed my face, then he shifted his arms and pulled me onto his lap. “You weren’t just some broken teenage girl. You were my girl. The girl I promised to make happy when she was sad.” His strong arms held me close. “I tried to make you happy, but I failed miserably.”
“Griffin, why are we talking about this?” I asked. “Can’t I just open the gift?”
He shook his head. “Hear me out, please. I’ve got a point, I promise.”
Still wrapped safely in his arms, I rested my head against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, a swift constant rhythm.
“Before your parents died, you loved to take pictures. Especially with your mom and dad. But once they were gone, that little girl wouldn’t smile for the camera anymore. Anger and sadness had wiped away the happiness of the little girl I used to play with when she’d visit her grandparents.” Griffin took my shoulders and held me, looking into my eyes. “I want to see that happiness on your face again.” His eyes searched mine, pleading. “Open it,” he said.
I looked at the gift in my lap, sliding my fingers to the edges. Peeling back the paper, I unwrapped two wooden picture frames. The frame on top was a blonde oak color, engraved with one word across the top: Promise. Inside this frame was a picture of Griffin and me—one that his dad had snapped at my going away party, the night before I left for school. Griffin towered over me. Our bodies were pressed together in a tight hug, and we both wore huge smiles on our faces. It was beautiful. I loved it.
I glanced up at him, running my fingertips over the engraved lettering. “This is perfect,” I said.
“Look at the other one.” He nodded.
I removed the top picture and stared at the frame underneath. It was identical to the other, except for the engraved word. This one said: Forever. Promise and forever…those were our words. “This one’s empty?” I held it up, puzzled.